Ceberus
by Blue Yeti
Summary: My protecter is my guardian, my guardian is my slave. An abstract take on AF, with the characters likened to Greek myth. Butler is Ceberus, guardian of the Underworld. Juliet is the Sphinx, causer of problems and guarder of secrets.
1. Ceberus

**Ceberus**

**Disclaimer: **The characters from Artemis Fowl belong to Eoin Colfer and his publishers.    
**Author's Note:**The ideas/characters from Ancient Greek myth are just that, and so belong to 'Culture', inspired by Biz who named the Artemis/Butler ship 'LE Ceberus and Hunter'. And, believe it or not, this was the product of listening to Aqua.

He never slept.  He only dreamed.  He wanted, craved... knew better.

He lived, ever vigilant, as Ceberus always is, always was, always would be.  He guarded hell.  And all its occupants, all its eccentricities.  He guarded Hades from harm, sitting back on his heels and asking for a stomach rub when the Master passed.  He didn't concern himself with right and wrong, because all to do with Hades was good.  All of it meant he could serve, be beside him, make him happy.  That was all that mattered.  Nothing mattered as much as Hades.  Nothing could.  Why would it?  Hades was the world, and his Underworld was his playground.  Ceberus had to protect Hades' playground, because then Hades would be happy.  And only when Hades was happy could Ceberus be happy.

As Hades went around his business, Ceberus went around his own.  He protected, he protected the Underworld from everything that might cause his master harm, everything that the Master perhaps would not want or enjoy.  He found satisfaction in his occupation.

He growled at a stray traveler who was trying to gain his master's favour.  The Master belonged only to Ceberus, not to no one else.  The Master loved him; and he loved the Master.  He loved the Master completely.  The Master was his life, all his life, was all his meaning.

The Sphinx was jealous, envy streaking from her in waves of darkness and conflict and pain.  She was a fury, dancing in her anger.  Ceberus barely noticed, and then only enough to tell her to be careful around the Master because he did not like being disturbed while he was working.

She fled from the cave, fled to the surface, the light.

Ceberus almost felt guilt, but then he remembered the Master's pleasure and approval and everything was right, everything was perfect.

The Sphinx cried when she was Above, dancing her anger in the light of Apollo.  But in light anger softens, disappears until she wishes to try again.  They are both guards, her and her brother of the Underworld.  She knows him, trusts him, understands him... Yet not.  She lives, he does not.

She cries, and then leaves.  Not wanting to ever come back.

Ceberus is content, since Hades let him into the Underworld that day and patted his right head.

Everyone knows that Ceberus can be tamed by music, though no one considered him being tamed because he wanted to be.

When next the Master passed Ceberus whined for a stomach rub, for recognition of his deeds and position.  Hades ignored him, stepping over his prone body.  He had better things to do.

But Ceberus didn't notice the dismissal, because he had been trained against emotion.  He never had emotion.

Ceberus cried, his whines almost a song in itself.


	2. Sphinx

**Sphinx**

Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl, related characters and situations are © Eoin Colfer. This is an act of fanfiction and is no way affiliated with Eoin Colfer or Penguin Books/Miramax Books/Hyperion Books. All content, situations and original characters are property of the author and must be treated as such.   


* * *

The Sphinx guards the secrets. The strange worlds that are too difficult for people to understand, are far too complex for anyone to know that they need guarding. They are innocent things, yet she is the catalyst that makes them become noticed. She likes that, and always has. 

She likes being special, and since she's the only one who knows just how special she is, because she's the only one who understands her mission, she enjoys the world. She's there to prove things wrong, or to prove things right. She's in the background, a prop, a means to an end where a hero will be worshipped and given a kingdom for an hour. She doesn't mind that things always turn out that way. She doesn't mind that she's the background, a fixture in the narrative who comes and goes, but no one really notices. Because she knows she's special, and she's always known this, although sometimes the knowledge has been buried under the riddles and the games that she plays, the games that are her purpose. She comes and goes, guarding that which is most important, that which no one knows needs protection. And they think she is the villain, the one who must be defeated. 

She knows better than them though, always knowing more, seeing more, than most would. But she can't let on that she knows, because that is not her place, not her purpose. She was protecting Thebes, she knows that! She knew what would happen once fate landed Oedipus in the city, she was trying to protect it from destruction! 

But they didn't see what she was doing, her methods were too strange, too difficult for them to translate into the language of those who don't know. It made her special, that she could see things like this, do things in her own way... But who appreciates individuality in a world that is structured by stereotypes? They fear someone they can't place properly, and ignore the majority in order to make her fit into a mould where she doesn't really belong. 

Sometimes, knowing this makes her angry. But other times, most of the time, she forgives them for their ignorance, their acceptance and place in the world she mostly hates, but sometimes protects. Because she knows that she herself was once ignorant as well. 

Ignorance is an easy mask to hide behind. People like feeling smarter than others, better and more intelligent. It's their weakness. So she exploits it, because if the Gods give you a stupid enemy, rejoice. 

She lives in a world of ignorance and pain; a world of realities being dreams and the place people walk upon being a foot above the ground. She doesn't mind it there, but she wishes it was a better place. That people were more fair to each other, respected one another more, lived and acted without thoughts of payment and reward. Even if they only lived for enjoyment, that would have been enough for her. She wished they could see the world properly, as she could see it. 

Her brother had seen the world properly, but love and devotion got in the way. He was gentle, but in a harsh world. Emotional where no emotion is welcomed. Devoted to an idea, then a reality, then a person. Manipulated, and pulled along with chains made of the finest lies, a spider's web spun of false innocence at the end of the path. 

He was happy like that though, tied up and lost in a world where lies are the only reality, and the scenery doesn't really matter, because it can all be made different by a decision that judges it inequal. She could never be happy like that, she knows it. 

Yet she is stuck in her own world of lies and unappreciation; of dances and games where no one really knows the rules, but the game board never changes, the players take the same paths, yet they never know it's been done before. 

She gave up on Ceberus. She vaguely wonders, sometimes, when she'll give up on her own world. 

She still wonders it, yet now she's met another. Another stuck in the patterns, moving the motions again and again, like a clockwork toy with only three movements. They're in the same patterns, but different worlds. They know they will always be stuck where they are, stuck in their worlds so far apart, yet the difference is what they both crave. 

But really, they are the same. They want the same freedom, yet they shall never get it. And she knows, but the Nymph does not, not yet. 

The Sphinx moves through her motions forever. Even though she knows it all, and knows how much better she could exist, if only the world could change. 


	3. Nymph

**Nymph**

Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl, related characters and situations are © Eoin Colfer. This is an act of fanfiction and is no way affiliated with Eoin Colfer or Penguin Books/Miramax Books/Hyperion Books. All content, situations and original characters are property of the author and must be treated as such.   


* * *

The Nymph lives in a world of her own, but doesn't know it. She lives in a world of trees and glens, of dancing and no consequences. She lives in a world of ideals that never tarnish, a world where the Good always conquer over the Evil, because the world wouldn't let Evil be victorious. And, if asked the question of why Evil exists in the first place, she would say it to be as a lesson. No one could know what was Good, if they didn't know of that which is Not. 

They used to laugh at her, behind her back, but more often to her face. She didn't care, she really didn't. But it did change her. Not for better or worse, because nothing is ever that definite, as she doesn't know, but change, as all things always change. 

She breathed and protested, lived her life on a high-strung wire, taking everything personally and responding with a passion that made The Bard envious with the depth by which she was able to express herself. Although, she rarely laughed, for so much was Bad with the world, so she had to change it, not knowing that it couldn't be changed, however hard she was to try. 

She was a guardian, enviously imitating the Furies, for she wanted their power of Right and Wrong, their powers of revenge. She was a guardian, envious of the Fates, for they had the power to change people, to make their paths and bend the mortal to their will. She was a guardian. She was pathetic, so small, yet thinking so high. She was idealistic, wanting everyone to change, knowing that she was not the one who needed to change, because she was Right. 

She was alone. So, so alone. 

It made her more… indescribable. She couldn't know what she was anymore, for somewhere inside she wished for all that she condemned. She loved the idea of freedom so much, but freedom from others is a hard thing to face. Being individual is most highly praised, yet so lonely, because there's no one who can understand. 

The Nymph always wanted understanding, yet she never knew that was what she craved. 

So she went on, moving through the motions which were expected of her, and which she couldn't quite place as being… not right. She fought, she grew angry over the mundane because it gave a moment of purpose and emotion. She didn't smile much, because even Spirits have worries; they are tied to the Earth, to the tree or the stream, and this is so stronger than a mortal burden, holding such a great pull, that if it was a human responsibility the owner of such would have fallen under their burden a long time ago. 

She holds up against everything, straight-backed with the glint of an untarnished star in her eyes – a star that lived long ago, but its light has taken so long to reach our understanding; it was the ghost of a fire far, far away. 

And then she wasn't. She wasn't alone, she wasn't wondering any longer if anyone would hear her if she screamed, if the noise would travel any further than her patch of trees. 

When they met the Sphinx was disguised, her eyes hidden behind lies, her eyes shielded from being the victims of anymore lies; they were too painful, the lies, they took too much out of her and all she wanted anymore was freedom from thought, mindless entertainment. 

As everyone is always hidden behind mirrored lenses, hoping to reflect back whatever it was the onlooker wanted to see, which in most cases was their own reflection, cured of blemishes of course. 

But they both knew that if they could lower the glasses, if they could dare to remove the facades and falsities that they tried so hard to not live by… they knew they'd still see what they wanted to see, they knew that they would still see their own reflection. 

It gave the Nymph comfort, and it did the same for the Sphinx, for they knew they were not alone, even when they were. 

But the time came when the Sphinx was drawn away, and the Nymph had to stay behind, tied to her grove of unworldly trees. The Sphinx was content, for she had found her other half; she had drawn strength to continue through the ages, for as long as she would be needed. But the Nymph struggled, she struggled against the Fate she said she didn't believe in, she struggled to change the way things had always been, the things about which it was said change was impossible, for human nature, for the very structure of the universe had molded it so. 

But then the Sphinx was gone, and there was nothing left but faith that it would not be forever, and even if it was they would still have dreams. 

That's where they are different, the Nymph and the Sphinx. The Sphinx is content with the world, the Nymph is not. Although, some times it is the Nymph who holds wisdom of stillness and society, since age has jaded her so efficiently, but at others it's the Sphinx, who sees faith and realities, cultured in worldliness. 

They fit together perfectly, strengths and weaknesses matching and complimenting. They couldn't rule the world together, but together, they can realize why they wouldn't want to, and why they don't have to even try. 

But she is tied to the Earth, to her allotted place, and she loves it there, in the same way as she always loves – with passion, vitality, fervour. And the Sphinx is tied to games and riddles, for that is what the Fates have allotted to her, she will forever be the background, she will always have a purpose, yet no one but her shall ever truly know what it entails. 

But they can have faith in each other; they can have faith in coincidence and the Fates, for what other than that would have let them find each other. They have changed each other, but only to the degree that was foretold before they ever existed. 


End file.
